


Ethan's Guide to Ruining Personal Relationships

by churchenbells



Category: Zeroes Series - Scott Westerfeld
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Eventual Romance, Gen, I am going to ruin Ethan's life, M/M, actually scratch that, angst? maybe?, the sisters are just a collective in canon huh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-06-26 06:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15657618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churchenbells/pseuds/churchenbells
Summary: In which Ethan cannot keep his mouth shut, and Nate isn't doing any better. Mostly takes place in between Zeroes and Swarm.AKA: "Ethan has a ridiculous crush on Nate that will not and should not lead to anything.... right?"





	1. In Which The Voice Fucks Up (As Always)

**SCAM**

Ethan was currently considering whether he should have been left in the Parker-Hamilton hotel. He thought about the Parker-Hamilton a lot these days. Being back with the Zeroes was great and all, but he could still feel hostility in the room. Even though they’d been through exploding hotels and drug dealers and a new power, his teammates still felt the effects of last summer. Even Kelsie, who wasn’t even there, had heard about it from Chizara. The whole group was thinking about how the voice had screwed them.

He just wished they didn’t blame _him_ for it.

They were even in the same room as last summer. Nate’s home theatre was posh, entirely too indulgent, and smelled like expensive leather, just like its owner. Except for the smell. Nate smelled like he stole his father's shitty cologne and bathed in it. Ethan hated being in this room, not because of how thoroughly his life had been fucked in this room, but because Nate _always_ had to show how rich he was. Couldn’t they meet in the dining room? Not according to Nate Saldana. Nate Saldana, president of the “let Ethan die in a demolished hotel” club.

“Ethan, are you listening to us?” The jackass himself.

He hadn’t been listening. Ethan sank into the leather of the seat as Nate stared at him. He hated when Nate bellwethered like this. What _were_ they just talking about? Instantly he could feel the voice knocking up his throat, which felt oddly like he was stuttering with his mouth closed. He opened his mouth and the voice instantly answered for him.

“The Petri Dish, naturally,” it responded smoothly. “All the materials we need for Chizara’s setup, and stuff like that.”

Nate sighed. “It’s nice to know something listens to me.” He paused like he was thinking. “Ethan, can I speak with you, privately?”

Fuck. Ethan was being called out in front of everyone, again. Nate really couldn’t let a thing go, could he? He briefly considered running out of the room before his voice could get him into trouble again, but decided against it. Thibault would probably just follow him anyway. Despite his rising panic, Ethan grinned. It was nice to be able to remember the emo three rows back. At least one thing had changed this summer.

Nate, along with everyone else, was still staring.

Ethan swallowed. “Sure. Whatever.”

Nate looked away, and Ethan could feel the tension in the room dissipate. As the rest of the team returned to the floor plans of the Petri Dish, only Thibaults eyes remained on him. His only ally in the group was the invisible man. Ethan was so screwed.

* * *

 

The team meeting ended shortly afterwards, as the Zeroes couldn’t stay nearly as long on school nights. Chizara was the first out the door, as always. The rest of the group tended to linger, like _really stupid_ moths drawn to a dickish flame. Nate may not have had the curve when Chizara left, but he drew them in all the same. Even Ethan, as much as he hated to admit it, wanted to be near that attention. Wanted to buddy up to the guy who left him to die. Classic.

“Ethan?”

Ethan had hardly even noticed the room empty out.

He groaned. “Yes, Glorious Dickhead?”

Nate wasn’t looking so glorious right now, though. He had a tight-lipped smile, like Ethan was a particularly annoying third-grader.

“Listen, I didn’t want to talk to you because I’m a dick or whatever you think, I-”

“Yeah,” Ethan interjected, “you’re just the guy that was totally willing to let me die, and not even thank me for anything I do, and refuse to acknowledge anything I say, but no, totally not a dick!”

“I wanted to talk to you because I’m _worried_ about you.”

_Oh no._

Nate continued. “You’re just not the same, Ethan. You can’t focus during meetings, you hardly talk to us, and I can’t help but feel... _”_

Ethan tuned him out after that. Not like it was bad enough the guy tried to _kill him_ and then pretended all was well, he had the nerve to say _Ethan_ had issues? Just like Nate, fuck up everything and then blame Ethan for his own rampant dickishness. Ethan had just made up his mind to let the voice deliver a stunning beatdown when he made eye contact with Thibault, looking distinctly interested, in the corner. He gave Ethan a reassuring smile. _Right,_ thought Ethan, _just stay calm_.

“...and this is exactly what I’m talking about, Ethan. Flicker thinks you’ve got some sort of depersonalization disorder, you know.” Nate finished by gesturing to the seat next to him, despite being the only other person in the room. Ethan was disappointed, but not surprised that Flicker had been talking about him with Nate. Flicker might have liked Ethan more than the other Zeroes, but she was still Glorious Leader's little sister. The worst part was that Nate looked so damn _sad_ , as if he actually cared whether Ethan swallowed a gun or not. Even the room felt darker, having lost Nate’s glowing smile and warmth.

Ethan's phone buzzed in his pocket. It was probably Mom, wondering why he wasn’t home by now. She’d put him on a tighter leash after what happened last summer. Not that Ethan minded. After nearly dying in an explosion because he needed a ride home, staying home with his mom didn’t sound bad at all.

He sighed. He did _not_ have the time or the patience to stumble through this conversation right now. But there was Nate, looking exceedingly pathetic and very unlike himself. Ethan hated the dude, but he couldn’t stand disappointing him either way. Ethan needed to give Nate what he wanted to hear and get out of this conversation already. The voice obliged, ever the reliable friend.

“Gee, sorry Nate, I guess I didn’t realise being left to die by a guy you kind of have a crush on who just so _happens_ to think you’re a freak could be a little mentally scarring! I’ll take your suggestions into account!”

As he saw the look on Nate’s face, Ethan reflected that he might’ve forgotten to mention that he didn’t want to tell him _the truth._ He dashed out of the theater and made a run for the door, ignoring the looks he got from the Saldanas as he tripped over someone's shoe. Once he finished burying himself in his own backyard, Ethan was going to have a long talk with the voice about making things worse.

At least this time, it wasn’t in front of a crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is probably a really short chapter but I had to get SOMETHING out there. I have never written fanfiction... cut me some slack.


	2. In Which None of this Should be Ethan's Fault

**SCAM**

Ethan had finally started working on his statistics homework when he was once again distracted by the vibration on the other side of the room. His phone hadn’t stopped buzzing since he skipped the team meeting this week. Didn’t he block their numbers? Besides, since when did any of the Zeroes care whether he showed up or not? Ethan had figured the only reason they kept him in the loop was that he had found Kelsie. Not like Ethan had been on the team longer than Crash or anything. The group had barely looked at him after the excitement of last month was over, until Nate had pointed him out.

Ethan groaned as he thought about what had happened last week.  His phone buzzed again, a welcome distraction. Ethan sighed as he closed his textbook, picking up his phone. He hadn't been able to focus on his work anyway.

Most of the texts were from Thibault. It looked like Ethan had replied to the first few, although he couldn’t remember any of it. As he read through the backlog of texts, a new one bubbled up, unrelated to the previous texts: _Do you want to talk about Tuesday?_

Not exactly the distraction he was hoping for. Ethan grimaced, texting back: _So Nate’s been gloating about it to everyone? Great. He’s a real champ_. He waited for a few minutes, but Thibault didn’t reply. He was probably too embarrassed for Ethan to text back. _Of course_ the entire group would know about his conversation with Nate. Must’ve given Nate’s ego a huge boost, knowing Ethan had a crazy obsession with him, no matter how much of a dick he was. Better yet, maybe he was disgusted by the thought of it as if having Ethan praise him lowered his value. Maybe he was a homophobe. Wouldn’t have surprised Ethan. Just as he’d settled into this enjoyably masochistic train of thought, his phone buzzed again.

It was from Thibault: _Bellwether didn’t tell us anything, actually. All he said was that it was good that you’d be focusing on school._ Why would Thibault be texting Ethan about Nate? Ethan was confused until he saw the previous text sent by himself. The conversation had completely slipped his mind. He liked to think he was doing well at remembering Thibault, but he was probably forgetting him a lot more often than Thibault cared to mention. It was especially difficult over text when Tee typed so slowly.

Rereading the message, Ethan was surprised that Nate hadn’t said anything to the group. Maybe he was disgusted by it, enough that he wouldn’t want it tainting his reputation with the rest of them. A calmer, more rational part of Ethan’s brain thought that it wasn’t that surprising that Nate wouldn’t tell anyone, especially when someone's loyalty to the Zeroes could hinge on it.

It was always about the Zeroes with Nate, not what happened to the people in it. He thought back to that moment in the Parker-Hamilton when Nate had decided to leave Ethan behind to save Kelsie. Because fuck the guy who you’ve known for so long, right? So much for being a team and caring about each other. It was more important that the Zeroes had a nice new crowd power to play with.

_Dude, I can see you ignoring my messages._

Ethan blinked as another text popped up on the screen. _Shit_ , he’d forgotten again, even though he’d been looking right at the screen. Maybe Flicker had been right, and Ethan was starting to go nuts.

He fired off a reply: _That’s Nate being a douche. I’m not going to flunk out of school in the first month. We didn’t talk about anything._

Luckily, Thibault didn’t take too long to reply this time: _Are you sure? It seemed pretty important—like the kind of thing you’d talk to *a close friend* about._

Ethan snorted and turned off his phone. Either Flicker's therapist act was rubbing off on her boyfriend, or Thibault was always this nosy. Tee was the best friend he had right now, but there was no way he could tell him about his crush on Nate. He wasn’t eager to commit social suicide. He had no way of knowing if the other Zeroes were cool with the gay thing or not—hell, he didn’t even know if Nate was disgusted.

Ethan himself was confused. Being gay wasn’t a big deal for his mom, what with Jess being a lesbian and all. His dad was another story, but he hardly even called anymore, let alone heard about Jess’ dating life. The only reason Ethan hadn’t said anything was that he didn’t know how to feel about it himself. Wasn’t two gay kids in a family a little far-fetched?

Besides, it was a gay crush on _Nate_. After what happened this summer, there was no way he could tell his mom he had a huge heart-boner for Scamiglia. He might’ve told Jess about it, but she was deployed until November, almost two months away.

Just then, Ethan heard the front door opening. Mom must’ve been back home early, unless... Shit, the sun was going down. Had he done nothing all afternoon? He vaguely remembered his previous fear that hanging out with Thibault took too many slices of time away, gave him brain damage.

“Hey there kiddo, eat anything today?” Mom popped her head into his room.

He hadn’t, but there was no way he’d tell her that. Eating had become a chore since the summer. It felt like he was swallowing sawdust —or concrete dust.

Mom sat on his bed, watching him. She looked sad, almost.

“You didn’t go out with your friends today. I thought you’d be excited to get out of the house.”

“Not really. I’d rather stay inside for a while.” He couldn’t deal with Mom looking sad. Righteous anger was what he’d gotten when he returned home, and he’d rather live with that than… whatever this was turning into. She gestured, and he sat down next to her.

She took a deep breath. “Ethan, you’re grounded for a very good reason.”

“I know.”

“But you understand that I still love you, right?”

“ _Yes Mom_ , I know you love me.”

Mom looked as uncomfortable as he felt. The Coopers weren’t big on feelings talk, and this was unfamiliar territory. The most emotional talk they’d had in recent history was after Jess’ first deployment. After a prolonged silence, Mom spoke up again.

“I let you go out with your friends because I was worried, Ethan. You pull a stunt like a bank robbery escape and don’t tell me what happened to you?”

 _Worried_. If he heard that word one more time, he might puke. There wasn’t anything wrong with him.

“And then you come home, and I ground you for life and you don’t say a word, then your friends start talking to you again and you hardly even care? Do you understand, Ethan, how horrible I might feel when my son _disappears_ for days, and he comes back and I don’t know what happened to him? When he refuses to eat and I can hear him scream at night _but there’s nothing I can do?_ ” She was getting more agitated as she went on.

She’d heard him having nightmares. Shit. He’d been trying his best to hide it, too.

“So I figured this was my fault, and let you go out with your friends. Maybe I was wrong to isolate you. But you still come home looking like a dead man and don’t move all day. And I’m trying so hard to help you but I still don’t know what's wrong!”

Mom fell silent. Then she started sniffling.

He slouched down lower. It should have felt like he’d let a steamroller drive over his guts. Out of all the lies he’d told Mom in his life, this felt like the biggest one. It wasn’t even the voices fault. This fuckup was all Ethan.

He finally spoke up. “I’m fine, Mom. I swear. Teenage moodiness, you know?”

“No, you’re not!”

For some insane reason, Ethan wanted to tell her everything at that moment, everything about the Zeroes and Nate and the Parker-Hamilton. How would he even begin? _Yeah Mom, I’m not okay. I have superpowers and Nate has superpowers and I’m totally in love with him. Also, he was going to leave me to die in a demolition this summer._ She’d probably send him off to the psych ward. He had to tell her _something,_ though, or she’d put him away anyway.

“I.… Some really scary stuff happened this summer. My friends—” He cut himself off. Ethan knew what Glorious Dickhead would’ve said to that. _Don’t incriminate the Zeroes in front of the deputy district attorney, dumbass._

He started again, “My friends kind of knew what happened, I guess. Nate told Fuentes I wanted to come back home. They don’t really get it, though. What happened. We can’t even talk about it because we’re not that close.”

Mom seemed equal parts confused and ready to haul him down to the police station again. At least she wasn’t crying anymore.

Her face softened, and she put her arm around his shoulder. “Ethan, you could always talk to  _me_ ,” She stopped there, watching for a reaction until she continued. “I know you don’t want to tell me everything that happened in July, probably because it was illegal, but I want you to know that just this once, it’s between us. No matter what.”

That was a lie. Talking about the three times he should’ve died this summer would get him a therapist, and mentioning superpowers would get him a white padded room to go with it. Ethan definitely couldn’t talk to a therapist. He was pretty sure they could only help you if you told the _truth,_ and he didn’t want to know what the voice would say to get out of it. The voice could have easily handled _this_ situation, but Mom could recognise its bullshit by now. Besides, Ethan had gotten wary of letting the voice handle emotional talks.

The sunset was over by now, and no light came in through the window.

“I should probably do my homework,” he deflected, standing up off the bed.

Her face crumpled like he’d kicked her puppy into a woodchipper.

He didn’t really have a lot of homework to do. His statistics textbook lay closed on his desk, where it would probably stay closed for the rest of the semester. School seemed so stupid now, listening to teachers drone on about things that wouldn’t help you in the real world. The tangent line theorem couldn’t tell him to keep his mouth shut with a gun in his face.

“ _Ethan_ ,” she pleaded, seizing his arm.

Ethan’s fists clenched, and a staccato drumbeat pulsed in his throat. His jaw dropped so suddenly that it felt like the voice had taken over again. “Would you just leave me alone? I said I’m _fine,_ so you can just stop bothering me, let go, and _fuck off!_ ” He heard himself snap.

They were silent for a moment. Ethan looked straight ahead, fighting back the wave of acid in his stomach as Mom let go of his arm, stood up, and walked out of the room. The door creaked as she shut it behind her. It was too early to go to sleep, but Ethan crawled under the covers anyway, smothering his breathing in a pillow. He fell asleep to the smell of motor oil.

* * *

Mom didn’t meet his eyes at breakfast, leaving to work without even reminding Ethan of his curfew. Ethan felt shittier than he usually did. Apologising to Mom was harder than he thought, especially when she tried her best not to look at him.

The concrete confines of Santa Rosa High School did nothing to help Ethan's attitude. He didn’t need a crowd power to sense the crushing, suffocating despair of a thousand emotionally unstable teenagers under the same roof. It was only the first week, and the classes were already boring enough that Ethan’s mind could freely spin out of control, leaving him gnawing on his already-bitten nails. He briefly envied Kelsie, who chose to hang out in the Boom Room instead of coming to school, but caught himself. The only reason Kelsie didn’t come to school was her dad _dying._ Ethan wasn’t on the best terms with Mom right now, but he’d rather listen to Mr. Fletcher complain about Ethan not turning his unfinished work in than have her die.

Ethan didn’t have friends at school, and he couldn’t see why everyone else needed them. The only friends he would’ve had were the Zeroes, and he’d made plans to avoid them for the rest of the year. Flicker was the only other Zero that was a senior in Santa Rosa, and they didn’t share any classes, which kind of sucked at first. Flicker was the easiest Zero to talk to, and she didn’t completely hate him. It was clear to him now that this was all in the schedule god's great plan to save him from another talk with Nate. _Gosh, mi hermano,_ he could hear Flicker say, _Ethan’s not paying attention in class! Think he’s schizophrenic?_

He didn’t even _have_ to listen in class. The voice could handle any question a teacher threw at him, and Ethan never finished his written assignments anyway. Sure, he _started_ them, but it couldn’t hold his attention and before long his mind would start looping on Nate and concrete dust and a bag over his head and a throbbing knee and _pink jelly and Nate leaving him tied to—_

Ethan was totally over it, though. Nate had even admitted he was wrong in the stairwell, which basically made the whole thing worth it. Ethan was not bitter, or terrified, or depersonalized, whatever that was.

He was especially not bitter when he turned the corner and tripped over Flicker’s cane. People should’ve been staring at _her,_ not Ethan. She had all the eyes in the school, and _still_ couldn’t see Ethan around the corner?

“Come on up, Ethan. I’m not going to bite you,” she said with a smirk.

Standing back up, Ethan couldn’t decide whether he should glare into _her_ eyes, or whoever's eyes she was peeking out of.

“You tripped me! You tripped me on _purpose!”_ he stammered.

“Blame Nate. He wants to talk to you.”

Ethan had thought there was no way Nate could fuck with his school day all the way in Palmdale Academy. He stood corrected.

“He has my number and two legs,” He replied, “Are you Nate’s personal messenger?”

“We’d love to call as soon as you unblock our numbers. You don’t _have_ to talk to him if you don’t want to. I’m just doing him a favor by asking, okay?” She smiled with angelic innocence, if the angel were holding a grenade behind her back.

The bell rang, and Flicker deserted the conversation, but not before Ethan could describe _exactly_ what favors Nate could do for himself.

“And I don’t even know what depersonalization _is!_ ” he yelled after her, already late for seventh period.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ethan still has a lot of personal relationships to ruin :/  
> On another note, the music I listened to while writing this is *atrocious* and you should blame it for any mistakes.


	3. In Which Ethan Fucks Up His Date

**SCAM**

The coffee tasted like charcoal. At this rate, Ethan wouldn’t find a single place in Cambria that served something decent. Coffee usually made him too jittery anyway, but jittery and awake was better than jittery and asleep in class, as he was thirty minutes ago.

The Burnt Bean wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t too crowded either. It was a classic Cambria establishment: quiet and quirky, the kind of place that dies and comes back as a Starbucks or Denny's. Whether that would improve its coffee or not was a different story.

Ethan hunched over his cup, replaying his infuriating conversation with Flicker in his head. Nate wanted to talk to him. Better yet, Nate had gone completely insane and sent Flicker after him. Ethan’s issues with the Zeroes had never been Nate’s highest priority—unlike Crash, who he’d keep at all costs—so what was the deal?

Was Ethan actually important to him?

Crazy. He was crazy for thinking it, and Nate was a special kind of crazy for _making_ him think it. There must be something in Cambria’s water.

Especially since Ethan was seeing Nate walk in right now.

Ethan sputtered and ducked under the table. Why would Nate be here? It wasn’t even close to Palmdale, and Ethan had never seen him here before. He was going to throttle Flicker. She’d claimed she wouldn’t force him to talk to Nate. Bullshit.

Nate himself had chosen to sit in the middle of the counter, acting for all the world like he owned the place. Ethan both hated and loved that, the way he always looked unbothered. That kind of ease could only be bought with power or money, Nate’s specialties. Ethan watched the waitress helplessly orbit around Nate as he chugged a glass of water, immediately asking for a refill. He hoped for Nate’s own sake he tipped well. From the looks of it, Nataniel Saldana was the terror of Cambria’s waitresses.

Nate hadn’t noticed Ethan yet. Actually, it looked like Nate hadn’t been looking for Ethan at all. As Ethan cautiously straightened back up, Nate was texting somebody, looking supremely bored. A few minutes passed with neither of them moving, other than Nate’s occasional glances at the door. He was _waiting_ for someone.

The realisation put Ethan on edge. If Nate wasn’t here for Ethan, he had no idea what Nate was doing, or with _who_. It was too early in the school year, and too far from Nate’s school, for a group project. Flicker would’ve been here by now, and it was too crowded for Thibault. Both options seemed unlikely, anyway. Ethan had never thought Nate was the kind of person to go on coffee dates with his friends.

 _Coffee dates._ The words echoed in his head.

Was he waiting for a _date?_

Sure, Nate was wearing an expensive-looking dress shirt and gold rings, but the pretentious asshole always dressed like that. His wavy hair wasn’t any neater—or artfully messier—than usual, either. Studying Nate for clues, Ethan was burdened with the unfortunate truth that Nate always dressed like he was going on a date. The thought didn’t comfort him; it was all the more reason to think he was on one.

Ethan ran through the very short list of girls he knew. No way would Kelsie go on a date right now, and considering the world hadn’t ended yet, it wasn’t Chizara either. Nate tended to hang around with Flicker near Santa Rosa after school, but Ethan doubted he’d met any girls there. He probably knew tons of girls at school, though. Why wouldn’t he? Ethan had never wished to go to Palmdale Academy more than he did at that moment, just to know what Nate was up to.

Of the entire group, Nate had always been the one most devoted to the Zeroes. Flicker may have changed her name, but Nate was the one writing agendas and designing missions. It seemed ridiculous now that he thought about it, but Ethan had never considered Nate having an entirely different social group at school. Nate was the only one of them to go to Palmdale, after all.

He wasn’t jealous. It would be very stupid to be jealous when he had no claim over Nate. It would be _extremely_ stupid to ask around about Nate’s love life just because he was alone in a cafe.

However, Ethan was feeling particularly stupid as he looked at Nate. Judging from the frown on his face, whoever he was waiting for had clearly stood him up. Ethan shouldn’t have felt triumphant about it, but he did. He wanted to jump up and shake Nate until he saw Ethan, until he _understood_ what the fuck he was feeling without that damn ego getting in the way. But Ethan knew what would come after that. Nate would turn and give Ethan his attention, switching on the golden light of the charisma Nate couldn’t live without. He would _see_ him, and Ethan would fall apart as always, like the gawky misfit he was. Having Nate’s full attention never ended well for him. It was easier to pretend he had a chance when he was alone.

The hopeful triumph in his chest crumbled into dread. What was he _doing?_ He had to get out of here before Nate could see him. Ethan slunk away, praying Nate was _really_ interested in his coffee cup. He’d gotten three steps from the door without incident when someone dropped their cup. It shattered, and Nate chose that moment to turn around, his eyes meeting Ethan’s.

“Ethan!” Nate didn’t miss a beat, glowing with his best politician smile. He gestured to the seat next to him, and Ethan’s anxiety melted away, replaced by artificial joy. The sudden change left him lightheaded.

_Fuck._

Ethan counted the grinning cafe staff, the two kids from Santa Rosa with three cakes and a huge case of munchies, and the cup-dropper cleaning up his mess in the back. If Ethan included himself, Nate had the curve to work with. Every working brain cell Ethan had was screaming at him to _get out now._

He took the seat offered to him. “Nate,” He smiled shakily.

“Coffee?” Nate appraised him over the rim of his cup, waiting for a response. “You’re not going to run out on me again, are you?”

Ethan shook his head at both questions. Nate relaxed, and the joyful atmosphere of the room disappeared. Ethan might not have been able to see Nate’s power, but he could feel himself start sweating again.

Nate continued, rambling. “I’ve actually never been here before, but I was supposed to meet someone and… Anyway, well, it's great to see you, you look great. Just the man I wanted to see. Do you spend a lot of time here?”

Ethan did _not_ look great, and his lack of sleep wasn't helping him with that. Neither was a steady diet of coffee and nothing.

“Not really. It’s close to school, that’s all.” _Ethan’s_ school, he wanted to add.

“Huh.”

“Yep.” Ethan murmured, popping the p with a sigh.

It was the first time he’d seen Nate with nothing to say. He’d been dreading this meeting for a week, and nothing had happened. This was either going better than expected, or it was the most awkward conversation since Adam and Eve were cast out from heaven. Either way, it was pissing Ethan off.

“Did you send Flicker after me so you could ask me where I got my coffee?” Ethan tried to keep his tone light, but his anger bled through. He glanced around the cafe, halfway expecting Flicker to turn around in a chair and defend Nate’s honor.

Nate blushed, and gave him a sheepish smile, lowering his voice. “I wanted to say I was sorry, for not noticing earlier… what you were feeling. This whole time, I just thought you resented my authority. If I’d known your depression was caused by… feelings for me I would’ve _done_ something about it. I feel like I’ve neglected you.”

Ethan was speechless. Why was it that everything Nate said recently made Ethan want to kill him? Nate was trying to be nice, and less condescending than usual, but yelling at him would feel _damn good._ It’d put them on equal footing, at least. Nate could jerk Ethan’s head around and act as perfect as he wanted, but Ethan always won his arguments. He was no good with facts, but the voice had mastered one thing, and that was cutting deep. It would also feel good to piss off Nate when he’d expected Ethan to swallow that shitty unnecessary apology.

He must’ve been glaring, because Nate’s blush darkened as he looked at Ethan, and he started tracing the rim of his coffee cup. He’d made three rounds when he spoke up again. “See, Ethan, this is the part where you’d respond.”

“Here's a response, what the _fuck_ are you talking about?”

“I, uh—”

“First of all, I’m perfectly fine, but if I _was_ fucked up, it would _probably_ be because you tried to kill me!”

Nate’s voice rose from a mutter to slightly above his regular volume. “Would you _stop_ saying I tried to kill you? It was just a coincidence that I’d untied Kelsie first, and we didn’t have enough time to—”

“Bullshit! Bullshit! You untied her first for a reason! You wanted her to live more than me!” Ethan shrieked back.

“Excuse me, you’re both going to have to quiet down or leave. You’re disturbing the other customers,” The waitress interrupted, stepping between them.

The look of outrage on Nate’s face made the whole thing worth it.

* * *

 

“I cannot _believe_ you got me kicked out of a cafe!”

 _There_ was the Nate he knew and loved.

“Kicked out? You told her we were leaving.” Ethan said in a huff. The sun was still high in the sky, and the streets were abuzz with the activities of newly dismissed students. Ethan leaned against the outside of the Burnt Bean and watched people pass by.

“You would’ve gotten me kicked out eventually if we hadn’t left,” Nate replied, stuffing his wallet back into his jeans. He _was_ a shitty tipper.

“Fuck off, Nate. She wasn’t showing up anyway.”

“Who? _Mierda,_ Ethan, why do you keep fighting me when I try to be nice to you? What is _wrong_ with you?” Nate punctuated the last question with a furious wave of his hand.

What was wrong with Ethan could fill a book. Well, maybe a short book. One of those little kids’ chapter books a younger Ethan had never bothered finishing.

Ethan took a deep breath, exhaling through his teeth. “I’m just _tired_ and _pissed off,_ man.”

Nate scoffed. “Wow, that’s really what you’re going with? I thought lying would’ve been your forte.” He looked into Ethan’s eyes, frowning. “I’m sorry for thinking you’d want to get to know me, I guess,” he added.

“I already know you, dumbass.”

“Outside of the Zeroes, I mean. Not as your leader. I thought that would _fix this!_ ” Nate’s voice was rising again, and his hands clenched and unclenched. It wasn’t a hot day, but Nate was sweating.

A lot of things suddenly clicked into place for Ethan. The conversation in the theater, Nate’s insistence on meeting him immediately, the apology…

 _"Oh my god._ Nate, do you think I’m going to _kill myself?"_ Ethan whispered, as shocked as he was embarrassed. Did he really think Ethan’s life hinged on his friendship?

Nate didn’t reply, but he didn’t have to. The look on his face was enough for Ethan.

Well, _now_ he was going to kill himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this is late! Life throttled me, and this chapter should have been taken behind the shed and shot.  
> Also, I think I forgot they were supposed to get together at some point :/ my bad.


	4. In Which Nate has the Advantage

**SCAM**

“It’s not what you think,” Nate began, collecting himself. His smile took on the mask-like, perfect quality Ethan knew too well.

“It’s exactly what I think! I’m a G-rated pityfuck! This entire thing is some messed-up charity act!” Ethan hissed, swinging wildly between melting from embarrassment and wanting to kick Nate in the kneecaps. His face was growing warmer by the second, and the Cambria sunshine wasn’t helping.

Nate grimaced, disgusted. “Okay, wow. It’s  _really_ not what you think. I hadn’t even considered that.” He caught himself, and his face smoothed out again. His voice was even when he continued. “I wanted to talk to you because, shocking as it is, I _care_ about you and want to make sure you’re okay and don’t think of me as your attempted murderer.”

Every time he talked, kicking Nate in the kneecaps was sounding like the better option.

“Too late, bitch! I’m fine, and you suck.” It was a childish insult—the best Ethan could think of without the voice’s help—but it seemed to strike a nerve.

“Do you not see yourself? You think everyone’s constantly against you, you’re hardly even in the real world, and when you _are,_ you’re so high strung you could explode at any second! Are you telling me you’re _fine?_ ”

“Fine as I’ll ever be.”

Nate swore. “Do you think I don’t actually care about you? Have you ever considered that I’d _miss you_ if you were gone? That I _did_ miss you when you broke up the Zeroes, even though we were all angry with you?”

“Yeah, bet you would’ve missed me after you _left me to die_ ,” Ethan drawled. He was never going to let go of that.

“I didn’t have any other choice! I had to leave behind one of my friends for the greater good, and it was a horrible situation with no right answers!”

“Friend? Name _one_ thing I do for fun,” Ethan retorted.

“Video… games?” Nate hesitated, like Ethan’s choice of hobbies was profoundly mysterious and unexplainable. Not that Ethan expected the kind of person who read Shakespeare for fun to appreciate the value of a good virtual murderfest.

“You impress me once again, oh Glorious Leader,” Ethan grinned despite himself, strangely amused by Nate’s reply.

He'd meant to embarrass him, but Nate didn't react. His attention had been taken up by the chattering middle-schoolers approaching them. He was looking for the curve, and Ethan could almost feel the conversation turn into another mission to save a Zero. Nate had become Bellwether again. Ethan had never put stock into code names, especially when he’d gotten something as lame as _Scam,_ but the shift between Nate’s two mindsets was obvious.

A straight couple sat at the table outside the cafe, sharing an ice cream cone. Nate had the curve, and he was going to use it.

The silence between them stretched out like depressing silly putty, smothering Ethan's anger. It was replaced by a sharp focus anchoring him to Nate. Nate was doing what Bellwether did best, calculating the perfect words to use, the percentage of sadness he needed in his voice. It was too similar to the boy that was willing to leave, and Ethan found himself wishing for the other Nate he’d seen moments ago. The Nate that could get caught off-guard, who would flush and fidget. The Nate he could tolerate, or even enjoy being around.

And he knew that like a genie, the voice would deliver. He just had to be careful about it.

_Make him act like a normal person, and all is forgiven._

The voice took the bargain.

“I’ll agree to rekindle this friendship on one condition,” it said, unfazed by Nate's power, and paused. _That was it?_ Ethan could’ve said that in his own voice.

Nate was unimpressed too. “Which would be?”

“No powers. No charisma, and no voice,” the voice finished, awfully confident for a power that had just sold itself out. It wasn’t the first time, but it still gave Ethan a jolt to hear the voice mention itself.

Nate looked like he was thinking the same thing. No doubt he was jotting down mental notes about the voice for the Zeroes’ next meeting.

“I can do that.” Nate’s glowing smile had found its way back on his face, and the weight lifted off of Ethan's lungs. He had the distinct impression that the voice had negotiated him into a worse deal. Maybe a condescending Nate would’ve been worth it if it meant Ethan didn’t have to make small talk.

Still, the voice usually knew what it was doing.

“Uh, ok. Cool.”

Nate glanced at his—surprisingly not tacky—watch, and his eyes widened.

“Glad that’s settled. Keep your phone on so I can call you, okay?” He motioned as if he were going to give Ethan a handshake, but decided against it.

Ethan watched Nate walk off, a sarcastic reply dying in his throat. How did a cup of coffee turn into a suicide watch led by Nate Saldana? Groaning, Ethan pushed himself off of the wall, his sweaty shirt sticking to his back. It had only been a few minutes, but it felt like he’d been there for _hours._

He’d made up his mind to start on his way home when something in the window of the Burnt Bean caught his eye.

* * *

 

The banana bread made an excellent peace offering. It wasn’t the perfect “Sorry I told you to fuck off in the middle of a heart-to-heart” gift, but it did the trick. Mom was at least talking to him again.

“Ethan, you have no clue how much I needed this, after the _nightmare_ I’m dealing with at work,” she said, launching into a tirade about the horrors of lawyering in between bites of banana bread. She kept everything vague, of course, never mentioning names or cases.

It was an easy conversation. Mom did most of the talking, leaving Ethan with the simple task of agreeing with her. He wasn’t totally forgiven, though, and it showed. Even with the addition of the banana bread, the tension of last night hovered around the dinner table, amplified by the strange looks Mom was throwing in Ethan’s direction.

The only question was whether she was willing to mention it.

“Do anything fun today?” Apparently not.

Ethan got up and rummaged through the refrigerator for something to eat. Leftover mac and cheese, promising. It tasted edible, too. “Not really. Talked to Nate.”

“Saldana? Good kid.”

Ethan stifled a snort. “Really?” Sure, Nate was charming enough for anybody, but Ethan liked to think Mom was smarter than that. Smarter than  _him._

He got a disapproving glare in return. “Don’t be like that, Ethan. He spoke with me for so long trying to get you home safe.” Bullshit, but Ethan wasn’t going to burst her bubble. It was kinder to let her believe there was one trustworthy teenager in Cambria. “Besides,” she continued in a lighter tone, “I think he’s sweet on you.”

Ethan spit out his macaroni. _“Excuse me?_ ”

There was no way. Nate was a little different in the cafe, but that was because he was off-guard, right? 

“Please, Ethan. Be more mature.”

“You think Nate _likes_ me?” Ethan hoped his voice didn't sound too strained. God, why did he have to sound so much like a twelve-year-old?

Mom didn’t give any indication that she’d noticed. “He asked about you a lot, that’s all. What you were like as a kid, you and Jessie… He was certainly interested in you.”

Lovely. It was just Nate being a creep. What, Ethan wouldn’t tell him about the voice, so he asked his _mother?_

“That’s really nice, Mom. I’ll keep it in mind.” Ethan gritted his teeth and filed that under “reasons to hate Nate”.

Mom gave him an odd look and switched topics over to Jess coming home for Christmas. It was great news, a rare reason to actually look forward to Christmas, but Ethan was too outraged to listen. If Nate was talking to Ethan's Mom behind his back, there was no telling what he knew about him. What he pretended not to know. What _else_ was Glorious Leader hiding from him?  
  
He unblocked Nate's number and waited for a call. If Nate wanted to talk, Ethan would have plenty of topics to choose from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not writing them out of character, the AUTHORS wrote them out of character >:3c  
> Also, I'm trying to get myself back to posting on Monday, so this is only slightly late.


	5. In Which Nate Makes an Appearance

It was still dark outside when Nate called Ethan.

“Wha―” He answered on the first ring. The poor guy must’ve slept on a hair-trigger.

“I’m at your house. Get dressed and come outside.” No argument from Ethan. Maybe there was some sort of devotion there, enough for him to get up at 1am. Nate didn’t know whether that made this situation better or worse.

Nate was soon greeted by the sight of Ethan flipping him off as he climbed out of his bedroom window, and promptly slipped. For someone who got in so much trouble with his mother, Ethan was horrible at sneaking out. The bushes underneath that window would never quite recover.

The early-morning air was chilly enough for Ethan’s breath to show, and he shuddered as he pulled on his hoodie. “God, Nate. It’s 1 a-fucking-m! Why are we out here?” Ethan complained, as Ethan was wont to do. He stood at a distance, wary of Nate’s power. Or Nate himself.

Nate smiled, lifting his hands in surrender. “You wanted no crowds, you’ve got it. We’re not likely to find very many people out right now.”

“I said no _powers._ The voice still works alone, dumbass.”

“Think of it as a guarantee that I won't use mine,” Nate replied. It was supposed to be a winning line—a show of trust—but without his power to back it up, it sounded cheesier than anything else.

Especially when Ethan kept muttering about him under his breath. Nate didn’t recall Ethan being quite so foulmouthed before this summer. He made a mental note to add this into Ethan’s folder, preferably under a section titled “mental health”. Put that together with Mob and the Petri Dish, and he was going to need so many new dividers by the end of this year. An exciting prospect, but not what he was here for.

Ethan ran his fingers through his hair, likely adding a new nervous tic to his repertoire. Nate noted that his hair was starting to grow out, at least. There wasn’t anything quite as unappealing as a buzzcut. “Um… are we just going to stand out here? Because I was just playing _Mortal Kombat_ upstairs and I have, like, an extra controller.”

So he hadn't been sleeping. Nate wondered if this was a regular occurrence, and possibly the reason for Ethan’s looking so worn down.

“I’d rather not come in. It’s not that cold,” Nate said delicately. The invitation was probably well-intentioned, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was lead Ethan on.

“What, seriously?” Ethan looked at Nate like he was crazy. “Do you plan on hanging out in my driveway?”

“I think your mom would notice if I came in. We could go down to the park, or someplace that’s open.”

“Dude, I think she’d rather see you _in_ my room than me _out_ of it.” Damn. Ethan actually had a good point. Nate had counted on the threat of the dreaded mother being a valid excuse, but of course she’d be more alarmed to see her son missing… again.

“Yeah, well—”

“Oh my god. This is because of the ga—” Ethan interrupted, his voice turning squeaky and ineffectual. This would require some serious damage control.

“No, it’s not.” Not in the way Ethan was thinking, anyway.

“It totally is!”

He had two choices: keep arguing with Ethan and possibly send him off the edge, or go into Ethan’s room and possibly send him off the edge.

Ethan's room was exactly what he’d expected. Fewer books than Nate’s own room, at least. Ethan sprawled onto his bed while Nate took a cautious seat at the desk on the opposite side of the room. The desk was covered in papers, most of it unfinished schoolwork. Nate continued his furtive examination of the room. Nothing of any note, except for a few strange knickknacks scattered around. Why did Ethan have an empty reptile cage, anyway?

Ethan himself was making a pointed effort to look nonchalant, but he couldn’t hide the lines of attention that were spiking onto Nate. Nate would have been charitable if he said being alone with Ethan was odd. Ethan had always been more… unstable than the rest of the Zeroes, but not quite like this. Whatever was going on in the guys head, it showed. Even alone in a room, his attention sputtered and wavered, managing to form a nervous web on its own.

Ethan took a deep breath and turned to Nate, his attention sharpening. “So are you always up at 1am, typing up your interviews with our families?” Nate wondered if Ethan was going to find a new accusation every time they met up.

“Ah. Thought you’d hear about that sooner,” he softened his tone, hoping to mollify Ethan before this got out of hand. Chizara would throw a fit about “ethical ramifications” if she found out, and take Kelsie with her. He couldn’t afford to let that happen.

“What the fuck, Nate? I know you take notes on Anonymous but  _all of us?_ Our  _families?_ Do you also have cute little color-coded binders with collages of all the times we’ve been in the papers?” Actually, saving the articles about their exploits might not be such a horrible idea. Nate was a little stung that Ethan couldn’t appreciate the value of knowing thy enemy.

“There’s nothing wrong with color-codi—Look, I take notes because its pertinent to all of us. When one person doesn't share details about their power, that hurts every Zero. We need to know everything we can to understand who and what we are.”

It was definitely a winning speech.

“Yeah, my dad is really relevant to Zeroes powers, given that he’s a fucking accountant and all.”

Maybe not. Asking about Ethan’s family wasn’t the best move, given the circumstances.

Ethan continued at a lower volume. “And god, maybe I don’t share it because it’s _personal_ to me, and it’s important enough that I don’t want to share it with people that hate my guts! Hell, I’ve only ever shared it with…” He trailed off for a second, looking confused. “I haven't told anyone, okay!”

“I won’t deny that it was a tiny bit of an invasion of privacy, but I did it for the Zer—”

“Fu—”

“ _Mierda,_ Ethan! If we keep arguing over everything we’ve ever done this friendship is never going to get anywhere!” Nate hissed.

Ethan fell silent at that, staring intently at the television screen. The blue light cascaded over every feature in a stark highlight, giving him a demented look. He hadn’t stopped looking hunted since the police station.

“Fine. But this isn’t over. Grab a controller.”

“Sorry Ethan, I like giving people my full attention while I speak to them.” Although, there was plenty of attention coming from Ethan, crackling and spitting like an overaggressive plasma ball.

“Well, it’s making me uncomfortable! Grab a controller!”

The fighting game on the screen looked like a violent, mindless button masher. Nate didn’t bother picking up a controller.

“Actually, wait. One more thing.” Nate braced himself for another volley of accusations. “Do these binders full of women have… power levels? Or rankings? Like ‘most likely to blackmail the rest of the group’ or stuff like that?”

It was the stupidest idea Nate had ever heard from Ethan, and that said something. “Jeez, no. Who’d waste time thinking about that?”

“I bet it’d be Flicker. She can basically see anything we text near her,” Ethan remarked.

“Are you kidding me, Ethan? It’s you!”

“No way!”

“Well, maybe Anonymous. I mean he could just follow you anywhere”

“Excuse me? You’re serious?”

Ethan started panicking about the likelihood that he was being spied on, but Nate was too busy churning two words around in his head.

Anonymous. _Thibault._ Damn it! He’d forgotten something important, and had no idea what. Nate set a note in his phone reminding him to text Thibault, and then turned his attention back to Ethan, still panicking. Like there was anything he could do about it.

He and Ethan discussed rankings for a short while, careful not to wake anybody else in the house. Ethan seemed to have put a worrying amount of thought into this, and had voted Nate both “most likely to try to recreate a movie” and “most likely to fuck their clone”, hopefully not at the same time. Ethan, on the other hand, was both “most likely to be in jail” and “most likely to get someone else in jail”. The categories kept getting more specific, and the conversation had devolved into hushed snickers. At this point, they both had reason to worry about being overheard.

Nate had gotten into the game proper. “Okay, okay. Hear this: who is the most likely to buy grape juice, and try to sell it off to freshmen as wine?”

“C’mon Nate, you’re not even trying. It’s clearly Mob.”

They both snickered at that, and Nate leaned back on the wall. He’d abandoned his perch on the chair a while ago, sitting on the floor instead.

Ethan let out a cacophonous yawn, which was to be expected of someone who’d been up all night. It was still dark outside of his window, but not for long. “Shoot, I should get going before families start waking up,” Nate whispered, suddenly aware of the time. There was an awkward silence afterwards, as if the bubble of camaraderie had popped. Ethan ran his fingers through his hair again, looking more like a cornered rat every second. The focus he’d had on Nate frayed and unraveled across the room.

“Yeah, probably.” Ethan rose from his crumpled position on the floor and opened the window. “Is the window okay?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Hey,” Ethan stopped Nate in the window, “this wasn’t that bad.”

“I woke up at midnight to hear ‘it’s not that bad’?” Nate teased.

Ethan suddenly leaned in close, close enough for Nate to count the freckles on his cheeks. Nate leaned back, holding in his breath. They both stood like that for a while until Nate thought he would fall.

“Shit. Uh… It wasn’t… I’m sleep deprived,” Ethan stammered, taking a few steps back.

“Right, yeah! No problem!” A spooked laugh bubbled out of Nates chest.

He hastened to make his escape out of the window, his heartbeat still pounding in his ears. Then he slipped and fell into the Coopers’ bushes.


	6. In Which Hospitality is Dead

The phone’s shrill ringtone cut through the air, rousing Nate from the glorious haze of sleep. Crowds be damned, he was never going on another mission at midnight. The cost was simply too great.

He buried his head into the pillow, hoping the person on the other end would hang up. No such luck. Nate groaned and turned to his nightstand, cursing every telemarketer and spam caller in existence. Nate avoided phone calls when he could. It was infuriating not being able to see the other person’s expressions as they spoke, nor the arcs of attention that told a story on their own. It was just his luck that his recent life seemed to revolve around cell phones.

Flicker, on the other hand, was a morning person with no such reservations. He’d barely put the phone up to his ear when she began her interrogation.

 _"Why_ didn’t you call me? You said you’d call me! It’s bad enough I’ve got Thibault sneaking off god-knows-where, and now you too?”

Nate’s exhausted brain was multiple steps behind her. All he could manage was a dull “What?”.

Flicker’s frustration was palpable through the phone. “Rat-weasel? You’ll use the blind girl for her psychiatric expertise and then leave her out of the loop? You owe me, you know.” Nate wanted to tell her that nickname wasn’t half as clever as she seemed to think, but held his tongue.

“I met with Ethan. It was… fine.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. It was _fine_ _?_ That’s what you’re giving me?”

 _Was_ that all he was going to tell her? Keeping secrets from Flicker was difficult. It appeared that a side-effect of her power was a disregard for privacy. He used to find it charming, but it felt more like a nuisance ever since she’d stolen the Anonymous file from him.

Why he was keeping Ethan’s gay secret for him was an entirely different matter. Nate could trust Flicker with anything, after all. More than he could trust Ethan, anyway. Still, let it not be said that Nataniel Saldana didn’t keep his promises.

“Confidentiality, Flicker. I could tell you how Ethan was doing, but then I’d have to kill you”, he quipped.

“I know you can’t see my face, but I’m unimpressed. All the favors I do for you, and this is my thanks?” She softened the complaint with a chuckle. He was off the hook, for now.

Changing the subject so soon would be suspicious, but he was intrigued. “What’s this about Thibault sneaking around?” Nate asked.

He’d hit a sore spot. “Oh my _God_ , Nate, you have no idea! I hope the Ultimate Goal doesn’t depend on Anon staying in the Zeroes because I’m going to _strangle_ him!” She hissed the last sentence into the phone rather than yelling, and Nate imagined she had to keep her voice down for her family’s benefit.

“I would rather you not kill Anonymous, especially after you told me that boyfriends beat Bellwethers,” Nate replied. He had to pity Anonymous; the poor guy was probably so used to disappearing anytime he wanted, he’d forgotten he had a girlfriend.

“I don’t even know what’s bothering me, except that I’m missing a lot more time than usual, and I _know_ I wouldn’t just forget him, so he must be actively trying to disappear! He won’t tell me anything, I can’t _see_ him, and Lily can’t even remember him long enough to be of any help!” Evidently, Flickonymous’ honeymoon period was over.

Nate didn’t like to think of himself as a jealous person, but a small, mean part of him couldn’t help thinking he’d told her so. Flicker had brushed off the issue of Thibault’s anonymity. Even with his controlled environment in the Redwoods, Nate feared losing any chunk of time to Anonymous. He couldn’t imagine dating him.

“Maybe,” he reasoned, “he just needs some time alone? The guy lived alone for a pretty long time, you know. He’s probably just overwhelmed.”

Flicker gave a dry chuckle. “If you say so, oh Glorious Leader. Since you've got nothing else to say, I’ve got to go. See you tomorrow?”

“Sounds good to me.” Nate stabbed at the end call button and sunk back into bed. He glanced at the clock, hoping for a few more minutes of sleep before he _really_ had to get out of bed.

_Wait._

He’d slept in until _after noon?_

Nate leapt out of bed and discovered that he was still wearing the same clothes as last night. One more reason to be grateful for the fact that no one entered his room without permission. It would’ve been difficult to explain why he was sleeping in jeans.

He’d missed breakfast, of course. Papá was going to be disappointed. Breakfast was the only time they were all home, and Papá insisted that they all eat together, as a family. Which included Flicker more often than was probably normal. His mother loved Flicker, and probably would’ve let her move in. Nate hoped she didn’t have her heart set on him _marrying_ Flicker. Mothers could be like that.

Nate cracked open his bedroom door and his suspicions were confirmed. His father was long gone, and Mamá was probably in the garden again. Why she insisted on pampering those tomato plants when they could just _buy_ tomatoes was beyond Nate. His sisters were huddled around their action figures as Gabby cheekily informed him that “breakfast was already over, sleepyhead”.

His sisters’ attention lines were sharp and focused, as though everything they set their eyes on was of the utmost importance. They made the perfect crowd for any Bellwether; their unwavering gaze moved only by his power. Adriana, the oldest, had the longest attention span he’d seen in an 8-year-old and often spent days devouring a book series, moving only to eat and go to the restroom. Alejandra and Gabby weren’t quite at her level, but he’d heard the way their teachers spoke about them, praising their conduct in class. Nate couldn’t help but smile as he watched them play. He was responsible for it, after all. As much as he loved training the Zeroes, his sisters had been with him for their entire life. He’d honed their attention, turning it into a weapon he could wield against anyone in the house. Especially any dogged detectives,

 _Then again,_ he thought, _that’s not really a good thing_ . Nate often wondered whether he was to blame for his sisters’ more unusual obsessions. Papá had thought the _lucha libre_ phase would last a month at most. Mamá had bet two weeks. But it had been half a year, and they were still going strong, even as their friends moved from dragons to Egypt to fairies. Is that what he had done to them? Leading them either to fascination or apathy, with nothing in between?

He ruminated on that for a few moments, then shook his head. There wasn’t anything _wrong_ with being passionate. If anything, he’d given them an advantage over their peers. Comforted by this logic, he checked his phone on the way to the kitchen, and the sisters saw their chance.

“Yippee-ki-yay, big brother!”

The three assailants came from all directions, leaving Nate nowhere to run. Gabby, the likely instigator, jumped up off the floor and attempted to rebound off of the wall, taking Nate down with her. His elbow hit tile, the impact sending a shock throughout his arm. Nate let out an undignified cry.  “No fair! This is tile! Where’s your honor?”

Gabby, apparently unharmed by her stunt, stuck out her tongue. “We have no honor! We’re bandits now.”

“Bandits? I thought we were wrestlers,” Adriana objected weakly. It was either a testament to her timidity or Gabby’s extroversion that the younger sister had set herself up as the leader. Even through the twinge in his funny bone, Nate couldn’t help but be proud.

The question of whether they were bandits or wrestlers set off an argument among the three of them. Gabby was adamant that she was going to be a bandit, and the twins, finally agreeing on something, insisted that a wrestling bandit was the stupidest idea possible. They were so engrossed in discussions of backstories and character motivations that they scarcely noticed Nate pouring himself a bowl of cereal and leaving. Strange obsessions aside, they were still just little kids.

Nate was halfway through his cereal when the doorbell interrupted the bickering in the kitchen. He heard Gabby sprint down the hall, eager to greet whoever was at the door.

“Na-ate, it’s your friend!” she called.

Friend? That must have been one of the Zeroes. Nate turned the corner and locked eyes with a decidedly awkward Ethan. Sometimes Nate had to give it to Flicker, he really did have a weaselly quality.

“I…” Ethan squeaked, “I brought your jacket?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'm not dead you guys, I've just been more busy writing application essays than fanfiction :,/


End file.
